


Free Fall

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Caboose Siblings AU [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Sexism, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caboose and Four-Seven-Niner are siblings. It makes more sense than you would think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Moon

     Out of her 17 siblings, Niner was the only one to be born on Earth.                    

     It wasn’t meant to be that way. Her parents, young and hopeful, had arranged their shuttle to the Moon colony at least a month before her birthdate, hoping that their eldest child would be born among the stars. It was a foolish dream, her Mother lamented this fact frequently when Niner was in her late teens, but it was theirs, and as a result, both of her parents were highly disappointed when their shuttle was delayed forcing Niner to be born on Earth like everyone else.

     Niner didn’t particularly care about the planet of her birth. She’d never visited Earth, and given how her life turned out, she doubted that she ever would. But some days, she wished that she had been born on the Moon like her siblings. Because, perhaps, if she’d been born on the Moon, her mother wouldn’t have given her such a pretentious name.

     Andromeda M. Caboose. The daughter who was given the name of the stars in hope that it would make up for her Earthly origins. Her mother thought it was fitting, she thought the constellation matched the freckles that covered her daughter’s face perfectly.  Niner didn’t really care about that.

     Andromeda may have been a pretty name, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a bitch to spell.

***

     The Moon colony wasn’t meant for children. The place, originally designed for scientists and military, hadn’t grown much over the years, leaving little to do inside the dome that saved the small town from space. There was a movie theater but it only played classics. There was a playground, but it was more a training zone than anything else. There was a daycare, but it housed far too many children in its cramped walls. Not that there were many children to begin with: at the time of the Caboose family’s arrival, there were perhaps 25 people under age 18 in the whole town.

     Perhaps that was why Niner’s mother decided to have so many in the first place. To help fill up the deep void that was space. That and her family’s predisposition for doubles.

     Before Michael was born, Niner was the only child in her family who was born in a set of one. Twins followed her birth. Quadruplets followed the twins. Then another set of quadruplets. Then a set of triplets. Then another set of triplets. By the time Niner was 8, she had 16 sisters (much to her father’s ire, who wanted at least three boys), and no memory of a time when her mother wasn’t expecting.

     Living in a house of 19 was loud and cramped. Despite the silence of the town around her, Niner was constantly living in a state of noise, of crying children and screaming parents. She spent most of her time out of the house as a result, wandering the empty streets. Her parents, too busy with the others. didn’t really take notice. She never took the same route through the town, always favoring different streets and pathways, but she always ended up in the same place at the end of her walks.

     Right outside the dome was a military base, accessible through underground pathways if you had the clearance. They practiced out there, running drills in full armor, training throughout the entire day. Niner watched them quite a bit, sitting right on the edge of the dome, her knees clutched to her chest. But mostly, she watched the pilots.

     They did flight training on the moon along with regular military operations. The crafts, ranging from large to small, would rush down the runway before they took flight, or hum slightly right before they leapt into the air. They never did anything too showy, that was for parades only, but Niner would watch as they soared into the atmosphere, traveling farther and farther away before they vanished entirely.

     Niner was 9 years old. Her mother was pregnant again, and her father made no effort to hide how much he wanted it to be a boy. And she wanted to be a pilot more than anything in the world, just so she could watch this world vanish behind her.

***

     When Michael Junior Caboose was born, everyone was shocked.

     There were a few reasons for this. First off, he wasn’t a girl. Second, he was born alone. He was the first Caboose since Niner to defy expectations right out of the womb.

     Niner liked him at once.

     It wasn’t like she didn’t like her other siblings. At age 10, she had grown to like most of her sisters. But her siblings tended not to understand her, understand why she wanted off the moon so badly, understand what it was like to be born alone.

     Michael didn’t really get it either. But he tried. And that was enough for Niner.

     “You see that,” she said, pointing up at the stars outside their house. Michael was in his carrier next to her, wide awake despite the late hour. Already a night owl at four months. “That’s Mars. It’s another planet. Like this one. And I’m gonna go there.”

     Michael just blinked at her, drool running down his cheek. He looked a lot like Niner despite his young age. He had the same brown eyes, a plethora of freckles, and tufts of black hair were beginning to grow on his bald head. Niner reached for his bib and wiped the drool off his face.

     “Maybe you can come with. When you’re bigger. Our sisters don’t wanna, but we could. Explore space and stuff. Team Caboose.”

     Both of them would end up off the moon, passing through star systems and walking foreign planets. None of them would be Mars. And it would be at least a decade of adventuring after Michael signed his life to the military before they would run into each other again.

***

     Michael was the only one of her siblings to call her something other than Andromeda.

     It was too long for him when he started speaking, and given the lisp he would eventually grow out of, it was almost impossible. Niner didn’t care, she didn’t really like Andromeda anyway, but it seemed almost unfair that Michael chose a name that was particularly embarrassing.

     “Freckles!” Niner turned around to find Michael chasing after her, her lunch in his hands, his hair a huge mess. She knew the reason for his appearance at once; it wasn’t the first time she had forgotten her school lunch at home. The girls she was walking with began to snicker under their breaths at the nickname, but she ignored them, walking forward to meet her brother halfway. She bent down so she could look him in the eye. While she was short for her age at 15, she still towered over her brother.

     “Thanks buddy,” she said reaching forward to pluck the lunch bag out of his hands. “I put a lot of work into this.” She reached forward to swipe at his hair, making him blush. He’d grown it out past his ears, and while her Father hated it (“it makes him look like a girl, Andromeda”) Niner fought tooth and nail for her brother to dress however he wanted. He was five years old. He shouldn’t have to deal with her father’s crap.

     “ _Freckles_ ,” he whined, putting on a pouty face that could put dogs in those adoption commercials to shame. “You’re embarrassing me.”

     “That’s the goal.” She stood back up, and wiped the dirt from her jeans. “Now head back home, okay? You’re gonna be late for school.”

     Michael puffed out his chest and rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t need to go to school. Daddy said so. I’m gonna get big and join the army.”

     Niner tried her best not to fume. Ever since Michael was born, her father had been fixated on the idea of a son in the armed forces. While she doubted he actually thought Michael skip school entirely, she knew for a fact that he thought finishing high school was optional. God knew what her baby brother had overheard him talking about to his poker buddies late at night,

     Her father cared more about the family legacy than his own children. And for that, Niner hated him.

     “Daddy is being silly,” she said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “He’s got us confused. You’re gonna go to school, and get big and go to college. I’m gonna join the army.”

     “But Daddy doesn’t want girls in the army.” Ah, and there was her father’s sexism reeling it’s ugly head. She reached down to give him a noogie.

     “Daddy also doesn’t want syrup on his pancakes, and we know he’s being silly there, don’t we?” Michael giggled and squirmed in her arms. She let him loose after a second and looked down at him, trying to be as serious as possible. “Now, Private Caboose. As your commander, I’m giving you strict orders to go to school. Are you willing to accept this mission?”

      Michael stood up as straight as he could and gave her a small salute. “Yes, Captain Freckles!”

     “Then head out!” Michael turned around and darted back down the street, small clouds of sand flying behind him as his feet kicked the ground. Niner turned around to find the other girls trying not to laugh at her. Sarah, one of the daughters of a Captain down the block, raised an eyebrow.

     “Captain Freckles?”

     Niner made sure to shove her extra hard as she walked past.

***

     Michael was always good with technology.

     It freaked her parents out a little, with how good he was at assembling and disassembling the various appliances around the house. The kid was only seven and yet he could repair a toaster without even trying (as long as said toaster was unplugged). Her parents were okay with his habit of fiddling, as long as one of his sisters kept watch and said appliance wasn’t active. Niner watched him do it most of the time, watched him fumble with the wires and mess with the screws, his big cheeks puffed out while he concentrated..

     “Mom got his IQ tested,” Lily, one of twins from the older set, said, lying on her bed. She shared the room with her twin sister Rose and it was very clear whose side was whose. Rose, the tomboy had stripped her walls of anything remotely floral unlike Lily who practically flocked to flower patterns. Rose was seated on her own bed, legs crossed, looking about as annoyed as a 16 year old could get. Niner only got caught up in the conversation between the two because she was collecting laundry. “They say he’s in the low-normal range.”

     “Why’d they test him?” Niner asked, picking up one of the laundry baskets. Rose shrugged, but Lily was the one who actually answered the question.

     “She thought we might have a genius in the family. Wanted to get him certified. Turns out she was wrong. He’s just lucky.”

     Niner thought back to Michael fiddling with an old radio in the garage a few days ago. Lucky was an accurate descriptor. But given how well her brother focused on these little projects, she doubted that was it.

     “Lucky and stupid,” Rose said, picking up her tablet from her bedside table. “I asked him how he did it. You know what he said?” Both of the other girls shook their heads. “Said he talks to them. Thinks he’s a robot whisperer or something.”

     “He’s seven. Of course he does. Doesn’t make him stupid,” Lily said. Niner really wasn’t paying attention though, thinking back to Michael, baby screwdriver in his hand, bent over the radio. How she could have sworn he was saying something.

***

      She joined the military straight out of high school. It was an easy decision; the military offered her a path straight into flight school and thus a path straight off the planet. Given her other option of a life on the Moon, it was an easy choice.

      Neither of her parents approved. Her mother wanted her closer to home, to settle down on the Moon and meet a nice boy (or girl, her mother wasn’t picky). Her father didn’t think she’d be up to the challenge. Her sisters, for the most part, weren’t surprised, and just asked for her to send letters as much as possible.

     Michael put on a brave face, but Niner knew he didn’t want her to go at all.

     “I’ll be home for breaks,” she said, holding his hand. “And I’ll write letters.”

     Her brother didn’t say anything. He just nodded, and slung his arms around her waist, gripping the back of her shirt tight enough to leave permanent creases. She let him hang on for a few moments, taking in her family behind her. All 16 of her sisters were there. Her mother was present. The dust of the moon lingered in her mouth and coated her tongue. But her father was absent, a large hole in the family patchwork.

     When the flight took off ten minutes later, the image of her father’s empty place would linger in her head for years. A silent reminder of what awaited her at home. Something to keep her moving.

     After Freelancer, it was the tears running down Michael’s face as she looked out the passenger window that kept her from letting everything crash down.

**  
  
  
  
**

 


	2. The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner goes to flight school.

     It was impossible to compare flight school to the Moon. They had no shared frame of reference. The Moon had a population of under 700. Flight school, along with the adjacent military programs housed in the same base, had a population of over 5,000. While life on the Moon was relaxed and carefree, every second of time at flight school was a precious resource that couldn’t be wasted. Every moment was carefully scheduled, from classes, to dinner. The dust and ash that Niner associated with home was gone, replaced by hard steel, clean air, and a view of the sky that seemed so much farther away back when she was on the Moon.

     She was living on a giant air carrier in the sky. A floating city of weaponry, military intelligence and advanced technology. Like something out of storybooks from the early 20th century. A huge collection of life, held aloft by the sheer willpower of man’s wish to defy gravity.

     It was everything Niner could have dreamed of and more.

     “You’re telling me that you’d never been on a ship before this?” Niner and one of her fellow classmates were walking down the hall, just released from their latest class on safety and protocol. Like most conversations in those first few weeks on the base, the topic shifted to each other’s origins. Her classmate had been born on a carrier just like this one, raised from ship to ship, only touching ground every few months or so when it was time to get more supplies. To him, living on an actual planet was unimaginable. As a result, he had taken to Niner’s story with great interest. “Like, not even once? Just the Moon, day in and day out?”

     Niner shook her head, adjusting the strap on her worn bookbag that her mother had given her. It was a hideous thing, more patches than original fabric, but her mother had gone to the effort to gift wrap it as a present, so Niner wore it anyway. Her and her classmate turned down one of the long halls towards the observation deck.

     “Pretty much,” Niner said, somewhat used to this question. “I was on a shuttle once, when I was a baby. But other than that? Nothing.” Her classmate glanced over at her for a second as they walked up a staircase.

     “Geeze,” he said. “I can’t imagine that.”

     Niner was tempted to say he wasn’t trying hard enough. Picturing living in a world of dust and dirt with little fellow human contact shouldn’t be that difficult. All one had to do was focus on the most bored feeling they’d ever experienced and multiply it by a hundred. But she kept her mouth shut.

     “There’s not much to imagine.” She stopped in the middle of the observation deck where hallway traffic was low.

     “I guess. But it’s got to be weird for you up here. Living in this metal bubble. Has to be terrifying.”

     Niner turned towards the big windows that made up most of the north wall of the flight deck. On her first tour of the base, the guide had gone to extreme lengths to explain that the material that allowed folks to see outside was stronger than steel, and thus, unlikely to break. Niner saw the display for what it was; an attempt to show off as well as to ease the concerns of  other Earthbound recruits. But she hadn’t even considered the danger until the guide brought it up. She’d been too focused on the world outside of the transparent glass, the beacons of light in the distance, the worlds that seemed so far away, and the small ships that could been seen practicing maneuvers at all times.

     One of the hardest things to get used to on ships was the feeling of movement. Of the engines humming beneath one’s feet. Plenty of the recruits had gotten space-sick on the first day. But not Niner.

     She had never felt more steady in her life.

     “You know,” she said, not noticing that her companion had already left and gone to class. Her eyes were too busy tracking one of the fighter ships outside as it did twirls in the air. She could see the exhaust dance in the air behind it. “It really isn’t.”

     In that moment, she almost forgot her family entirely.

     She likely would have, if it wasn’t for the letters.

***

 

     The letters came in at the end of each month, handwritten, stuffed into a giant packet and sealed with stickers and duct tape. The amount of letters inside varied; sometimes she got messages from each member of her family, sometimes she only got two. At first, Niner begged her mother to start using electronic messaging, to spare herself the weird looks as she walked down the halls with a system of postage that hadn’t been widely used since the 20th century. As time went by, however, she stopped protesting, realizing that while cumbersome, the feel of dust coated paper under her fingertips was a close to home as she was going to get outside of breaks.

     She liked them, the letters. The ones from her sisters varied in content, switching from school, to boys, to girls, and everything inbetween. The ones from the eldest pair of twins often rotated on the subject of attending college, if at all. Her mother mostly wrote about how she missed her. After three months, the only letters that contained any variety were the ones written by Michael.

     To be fair, deciphering Michael’s handwriting, which had yet to grow into something legible, was half the fun.

     “ _Dear Freckles_.” Niner was seated on her cot waiting for curfew to kick in.  The trumpet that signaled the event was overdue by five minutes, which wasn’t uncommon enough to be alarming. That being said, they were supposed to have lights out already (the curfew was in place solely to conserve power). She’d already read the rest of the letters in her packet, one from her mother and one from Lily.  Michael's was the last one left to look through. She dimmed her lamp to the lowest setting in case curfew started when she was halfway through, and began to read.

    _“ Mom says you’re living in space now. I asked her how you sleep in space, because there’s no oxygen, and she said it’s because you’re on a ship. I don’t think that’s the same as living in space, but she told me to stop being picky. I think Mom doesn’t understand that ships aren’t a part of space”_

     Niner covered her mouth, trying to disguise a chuckle. She could picture it now, her baby brother, big eared, hair a mess, face bright red, as he tried to argue that her wording was off. Michael was always one for silly conversations. Every member of her family was long suffering in this regard. There was the sound of footsteps outside, elder students doing rounds probably, and she dimmed her light further. She kept reading.

    _“Dad thinks you should come home, but I told him you have to become a Captain first. So you’re extra important. Not that you aren’t extra important already.” Niner could picture Michael shuffling from one foot to the other with that. He’d never been good with words, and it seemed the written version did nothing to curb his perpetual foot-in-the-mouth syndrome. “I started 4th grade today. My teacher is a jerk and she put me in the lowest reading group. Which was mean, so I don’t like her. But you always said to be nice, so I’m not going to tell her that.”_

     That was a little more worrisome. Michael wasn’t the best when it came to reading and writing, but she doubted putting him in the “lowest” reading group would help improve that. It would likely just cripple his self esteem. She made herself a mental note to talk to one of her sisters about that later. Maybe they could help him catch up. Her gaze traveled to the bottom of the page. At the bottom was a drawing of what looked to be some sort of alien standing next to Niner. Niner was drawn in blue marker, including her freckles, and given the line sticking out of her side, Niner assumed she was meant to be fighting the alien in green. It couldn’t be farther from the truth, Niner wasn’t due to hit the front lines until after she graduated in three years, but it was unlikely Michael understood that. He probably thought she was saving the Moon from the forces of evil right now.

      _“Have fun living in space. Don’t talk to strange aliens. I miss you.”_

      “Private!” Someone rapped on her door, loud and harsh. Niner almost fell off her cot from the surprise of it, the letter drifting out of her hands onto the concrete floor. “Curfew! Turn off the light!” Niner did as she was told, reaching for the switch to her lamp. The room was plunged in darkness.

     Once she heard the footsteps outside fade, she reached down to fumble for the letter, which she had dropped somewhere on the floor. She found it soon enough, crumpling the right-hand corner. Taking it slow, she folded the letter back into thirds and placed it on her nightstand.

     The next morning, she wrote a letter of her own.

_“Michael,_

    _I think Mom understands the difference between space and ships, but I’ll be sure to correct her just in case. This type of vigilance is important. Sorry to hear about Dad, but I’m afraid your correction is incorrect. I have to become Colonel Caboose first. Better uniforms._

_Sorry to hear about the teacher, but happy to hear you didn’t call her a butt. If you want some help with reading,  Hannah will probably be willing to help if you ask. Though, if you feel you need an extra push, tell her she’s your favorite quadruplet. Lois, Kate and Penny will hold it against you though, so only use it if you’re in dire need._

_I am having a lot of fun living in space, but I’d probably be having more if you were around. If you want to know what I’m up to look up videos of flight maneuvers. Remember; I’m doing the same thing except 100 times better._

_Haven’t met any aliens yet, but I’ll keep on guard. Miss you too._

_-Captain (in training) Andromeda “Freckles” Caboose._

     At the bottom, she added an illustration of her own. Like her brother, she carried no artistic talent, but it didn’t really matter for this one. All she needed was a stick figure, standing on top of an alien, arms crossed. She added freckles to the stick figures face to make it obvious that is was supposed to be herself, along with a caption that said “Colonel Caboose.” At the last second, she grabbed her red pen to add a cape, flowing in the wind, Superman style.

     So maybe she was embellishing the Colonel uniform a little. It was for a good cause. And honestly?

     The cape looked cool.  

 

***

     

     Years later, it would be hard to distinguish one visit home from another.

     There wasn’t many, maybe two or three each year. She never stayed for the entire summer and as a result, most of her trips lasted less than two weeks, tops. It was the environment that did it, that sent her running from the place over and over again. The cramped house. Her father’s remarks. The sand and dust that snuck inside her clothes and coated every inch of her skin.

     After living in a place where the sky literally rested under her feet, the moon began to feel more like a prison. A prison that would keep her if she stayed for too long.

     No one in her family understood it fully. Not even Michael.

     “Do you not like us?”

     They were seated outside of their house again, in the same spot where Niner used to take her younger brother to watch the stars when he was a baby. It had changed a little; her father had managed to put in a patio and there was now a modest grill for cooking. Niner doubted her father ever used it. The dust storms on the moon had to have jammed the thing a day after it got out of the box. She turned down look at her brother.

     He was 11 now. The baby fat was gone from his face for the most part, and his hair was now cut short. Niner hoped it had been his decision instead of their father’s. He was looking down at his shoes, which now featured laces instead of velcro. Michael picked at the plastic caps that surrounded the tips.

     “What?” Niner said. She hadn’t been paying more attention, too busy staring up at the sky. Michael grabbed one of his shoelaces and used the plastic tip to doodle ideal lines in the dust below them. He still wasn’t looking at her.

     “Do you not like us?” He asked again, his voice small and soft, and not Michael at all.

     “Of course I like you,” she said. Michael didn’t react. Niner turned to face her brother and leaned forward, planting her hands on the patio. She could see his face better now. Michael’s eyes were tracking the movement of hand as it drew a heart. He wasn’t smiling, the left corner of his mouth bent down a fraction. “What makes you think that?”

     Michael was silent for a short period of time. A gust of wind blew past the house, erasing Michael’s scrawled lines and single heart in a cruel brush. His lower lip wobbled a little before he spoke. “Dottie from school said so. I told her you were off in space to fight bad guys and she said you left because you didn’t like us.” He reached down to lay his hand over where his drawings used to be. “Didn’t like me. Cus I’m stupid.”

     Niner could feel rage building in her temples. How dare they make fun of her baby brother? _How dare they_. She wanted to go find the kids parents and yell until her voice was hoarse. If only to make herself feel better.

     It wasn’t about her now. It was about the tear-stricken kid in front of her who though his reading disorder (he’d been diagnosed last fall) would send her packing. She propped herself back up so she was seated one more. With one hand, she propped up Michael’s chin, the other she placed on his shoulder.

     “Michael J. Caboose,” she said, trying to use the same tone she did during drills. The tone that meant she was deadly serious. “You are not stupid. You’re brave, and kind, and smart.”

     “But-”

     “You heard me. Smart. You’re great with the appliances in the kitchen. You’ve repaired my pens dozens of times. And you’ve given me some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten.”

     Michael sniffed, snot and tears running down his face. “You mean it?”

     Niner let go of his chin and his shoulder. She straightened her shoulders, and tilted her chin up. “You dare suggest your captain is lying to you?”

     Despite being an utter wreck, Michael raised his right hand up for a perfect salute. “No, Captain Freckles!”

     “Good.” She saluted him back and they both fell back into their restful stances. Niner took off the jacket she was wearing so Michael could wipe his face off with it. Silence pervaded the area for a while until Michael spoke again.

     “So,’ he said, his voice still wrecked. “If you like us, why are you always leaving?”

     Niner sighed, resting her hands behind her so she could lean back. How could she explain this to an 11 year old? The itch under her skin. The feeling of dust weighing down her shoes. The hollow echo of her own voice across a wasteland.

     “It’s not the people,” she said, choosing her words with care. “It’s the place.” Michael looked at her, his red rimmed eyes wide. She reached down into the dust and drew a crude picture of a fish. “You know how fishes can’t survive long on land?” Michael nodded. “I’m like them. If I stay here for too long, I feel like I’m going to suffocate.” Seeing the alarm build in Michael’s eyes, she raised up her hand and waved it back and forth. “Not literally. It’s a metaphor.”

     Michael bit the inside of his cheek. “A metaphor. So space is...your water then?”

     “Exactly.”

     “But there’s no air in space.”

     “It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

     Michael wiped at his eyes, getting rid of the remaining tear tracks. He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. Then, in perhaps the most serious voice she had ever heard from her brother, he said the following.

     “You’re weird, Freckles.”

     Niner’s resounding laugh could be heard all the way down the street.

***

     That same year, Niner would graduate from flight school with honors. She would be one of the 200 students to pass the course.

     Only 50 of those same 200 would live to see the next three years.

 


	3. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niner heads to the front lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give Tea credit for helping me come up with the character of Taylor.  
> This fic would be less interesting without you, Tea.

     The war mortality rate had never been good.

     It was a fact, a well known one, plastered on late night news networks and pacifist signs. When the war first began, it hadn’t been so bad, perhaps a 5% mortality rate overall for every member of the armed forces. Given other wars off Earth, the rate had almost been good news. But as the weeks and years dragged on, the rate began to plummet. Seven percent. Nine percent. Ten. By the time Niner joined the military, the rate hovered at a solid 11 percent across all units. By her second year, the army had forced the draft. By her third, 15 percent of soldiers never made it home.

     So, yes, the mortality rate across the armed forces was dismal. It varied from branch to branch but not by much. Except for the air force.

     Out of every four soldiers who flew, only three ever made it back home.

     Out of Niner’s graduating class, it was only one.

***

     Niner lost her first fellow pilot on her second week in combat.

     It was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission, nothing more, nothing less. Her and three other pilots were supposed to fly over a few enemy bases and scan them for weapons. They talked about it in school dozens of times. It wasn’t suppose to be dangerous.

     “Ready to get your ass kicked,” Pilot Thirty Three said,  clapping Niner on runway. It wasn’t a very big space, their ships were stored on a giant vessel like most, but it gave them enough room to take off and that was what mattered. The area was busy, full of flight crew members and fellow soldiers, but Niner was only focused on the three other pilots in her general vicinity to really notice.  Thirty Three was a tall man, perhaps five years older than Niner, with a mess of a blonde hair that defied every single regulation in the book. Smug to a fault, Niner would have hated him if he wasn’t so talented on the airfield. Man talked big, but he could back it up.

     “Not a competition, Three,” Pilot Forty Five, said, securing her helmet over her braided black hair. Five was on the tall side, built and muscular, and sometimes Niner wondered why she went into flying instead of the Marines. Three placed his own helmet on which was a light pink color and secured it to his armor.

     “It is when Niner is involved. Can’t let another honor student show me up,” he said, walking over to his ship. Each of their vessels for this mission were small, perhaps the size of a regular fighter space craft. Pilot Twenty Seven, who’d been dressed since he entered the flight deck, walked past Three to his own ship.

     “You say that like you have a chance,” Niner said, walking up to her own ship. Her codename for these operations differed from case to case, but they always ended on a nine. Her ship was the same as the others, down to make and model, but Niner couldn’t help but feel hers was a little extra special.

     “Don’t get showy you two.” Five was already in her cockpit, her com on to broadcast to the other members of her squad. Everyone else was crawling into their own ships, settling into the main seat and doing a routine control check. Niner flipped on the first of the dash switches.

     “Tell that to Three.” If anyone was going to risk the mission to sooth their own ego, it was going to be him. Niner was competitive, not foolish. After a few more consul checks, and a normal sync up of their equipment, they were ready to go.

     Niner loved all aspects of flying. It sounded cliche but it was true. Anything that got her off the ground and into the void of space was something to appreciate, even the routine of flight checks and the struggle of turbulence. But out of all the aspects of flying, what she loved the most was taking off. Feeling the wheels of her ships (when they had wheels) lift off the concrete. Hearing the thrusters go into overdrive. Her ears popping as she got higher and higher into the sky.

     In one of her letters to youngest pair of twins, she had tried to explain this, the euphoria of not being tied down. Her sisters replied that she had to be insane.

     It was their loss. If sanity meant giving up the stars, Niner never wanted to be sane again.

     The bases were on the planet below, a small uncolonized place with regular volcanic eruptions and harsh winters. Given the thick layer of ash in the atmosphere, it was the perfect place for the enemy to work on new weapons, since any flight unit had to actually enter the planet’s atmosphere to pick up anything on a scanner. The place from a distance looked like a cloud of ash, dense thick shadows of black dancing together in ribbons. It was the sort of place you’d send back home on a postcard but never visit yourself. Looking down at it, Niner was a little disappointed she couldn’t send any of her family a picture. Her scientist sister would love it. And Michael would just think it was cool.

      Entering the atmosphere was the tricky part. Visibility was outright terrible, and the turbulence was no help either. As each of the jets entered the thick cloud of ash, their ships trembled with the force of it.

     “Gotta feel bad for those pilots of the early 20th,” Three said over the com, as they flew through the darkness. Ash was sticking to Niner’s windows, and she was certain it would be a bitch to clean off later. “Flying without today’s stabilizers must have sucked. How anyone could make it through an atmosphere without losing their lunch is beyond me.”

      “Most things are beyond you, so I’m not surprise,” Niner said at the same time Five said “Focus.” They were getting closer to passing through the ash cloud now. Niner tightened her grip on the wheel, waiting for her scanner to ping.

      Five seconds later it did. But not with military base locations. Instead, as the four rookie pilots broke through the ash cloud, they found themselves facing a platoon of enemy fighter jets, ready to charge.

     It’d been a trap. And they’d fallen right into it.

     “Aw shit,” Seven said over the com. It was the first thing he’d said all day. It would be the last thing he would end up saying in his life.

     As soon as the words left Seven’s mouth, the platoon fired, missiles heading right for their direction. Niner cursed, pulling her ship sharply to the right, and hitting the throttle. She accelerated forward, a few missiles flying past the right wing of her ship.  Trying to deflect most of the enemy’s fire, she put up her shields to the highest level, spinning in order to make her harder to hit.

     “Seven’s-” The com fizzed into static. Niner blocked it out, blocked out the fear in her gut, focusing on the three ships in front of her. The constant spinning made it hard to get a good lock on them. They were getting nearer, flying her way. No amount of evasive maneuvers would save her if they got any closer. There were only two options; shoot three perfect shots, or get shot down herself.

     Niner placed her thumb over the trigger on her controls. She’d always been one to test the odds.

     She fired, each of the missiles landing their target, though all in different places. She clipped two of them right in the wing, another head on. All three ships began to tumble towards the planet, smoke billowing off their broken wings to mix with the ash in the air.

     It was the stuff of Niner’s nightmares. To be caught in a ship as it plummeted to the ground below. To have absolutely no control. Total free fall.

     The rest of the flight was a blur. By the end of it, two thirds of the enemy had perished, the last third fleeing for safety. Niner, Three and Five would all manage to get the scans they needed,   despite heavy damage to each of their ships. When they returned to the base, their mission would be classified as an important victory.

     That night in the mess hall, looking at Seven’s empty seat, Niner wasn’t so sure that assessment was accurate. A man had lost his life. Another soul had been lost to the war. They didn’t even have a body to send home. Didn’t that constitute a minor failure?

     A year later, after Three and Five also perished, when a general clipped a medal to Niner’s uniform for excellence, Niner began to realize that the army had a very different idea of what it meant to win.

***

     After another year in service, after another year of dead friends, Niner received another award for bravery in combat.

     It wasn’t much of a ceremony. The war was too hectic to arrange such a thing, funds were too tight to even afford a stage. The whole event took place in the mess hall in under five minutes. She got onto the stage. A man in a suit listed her accomplishments. They pinned a medal to their vest. And that was it.

     For such a small gathering, the news spread quickly. Niner’s reputation for being “valiant in the face of danger” began to proceed her. Rookies asked for advice. Comrades gossiped on her skills. Command whispered about transferring her to more “promising’ positions.

     She wrote home about it of course. She had no reason not to. In return, she got plenty of congratulations back, words of encouragement for her success. Stuff that was a run of the mill   reaction. Save one.

     This time, it wasn’t from Michael. Instead it came from her fourth youngest sibling.

  _“Andromeda,_

_Congratulations on your award. It’s good to hear your thriving in the military. I can’t say I’m shocked that you managed to score an award for bravery, it fits you, but don’t let that diminish how proud I am of you._

_You’ve always been brave, Andromeda. Leaving home, taking into space, fighting an actual war. It’s a lot for us to live up to back at home. It’s a lot for me to live up to. And while I’m not nearly brave enough to fly around in a small metal tube, I think I’m finally brave enough to say this._

_I’m trans. Agender, if you want to get specific. Michael knows, as do the rest of our sisters, but I still haven’t told the parents. I don’t know if I will. But I felt like I needed to tell you._

_This doesn’t have to change anything. I’m still your sister (or your brother, you can pick, I like both to be honest). I just go by a different name now (Taylor), and different pronouns (they/them).  I’m still the kid who stole your dolls when you were seven, and wrestled neighbors dog because I could._

_If you don’t want to be a part of my life anymore, I won’t force you. But please, if you don’t want to be supportive, just don’t respond. It will be easier. Otherwise, just send me a letter back._

_I really hope to hear your reply,_

_Taylor._

     Niner spent a lot of time thinking about that letter. The medal on her chest had felt especially heavy since she got it. It shouldn’t have been; it was thin, lightweight copper, but to Niner it felt like the force of gravity. Brave. That what she was supposed to be. Brave for outliving everyone else. What kind of award was that?

      It took Niner five drafts to respond to that letter. When she did, she felt silly for not thinking of her reply sooner. She wasn’t worthy of the medal on her chest. But she knew someone who was.

     Miles away on the moon, Taylor Caboose would open their letter to find a shiny medal with this message attached.

_“Taylor,_

_There is more than one way to be brave. I think you deserve this more than I do._

_I still love you,_

_Andromeda_

***

     That year, Niner would take her second to last trip back home.

     The moon was different than she remembered. At age 24, her childhood home seemed around five times smaller than what she remembered. Her father was gone, her mother had finally kicked him out, and as a result, most of his mementos were gone. Most of her sisters, besides the two last pairs of Triplets had moved out, either for work, their own families, or college. The land she remembered as being noise filled and crowded seemed to be flipped on its head.

     Also, Michael was taller than her. Which was just not fair.

      “Freckles,” he said, lifting her up into a tight hug as soon as he returned from school, Taylor right behind him. Niner had spent the last hour on the steps of their house for him to return, and to be honest, she didn’t recognize her baby brother at first. Michael wasn’t allowed to be so tall. “Mom didn’t tell us you were coming home!”

      “It was supposed to be a surprise,” Niner wheezed, trying to catch her breath in the bear hug. When did her brother get so strong? She wiggled her left arm out of his grasp to tap his shoulder. “Buddy, mind putting me down before you break my ribs?”

     Michael did as he was told, dropping her in one sudden movement. It almost sent Niner flat on her ass. Taylor helped her recover, grabbing her wrist to keep her from falling into the dirt entirely. Her sibling looked different from the last time Niner saw them, their hair cut short into a pixie, their smile a little wider. They looked happier. “Thanks Taylor.”

     “No problem,” Taylor said. Niner reached down to brush the dust off her jeans. She could already feel some pebbles in her shoes. “So how’s space?”

     Niner wasn’t sure what to say about that. Space was complicated. There was the feeling of soaring above planets, of being weightless, of being free from the force of gravity. And then there was the sound of Taps after a mission, the smell of smoke in the air. She couldn’t separate one from the other.

     “Space is...space,” Niner said, shrugging. Taylor seemed to accept that at face value, but Michael tilted his head at her. Kid was too perceptive for his own good. Niner cleared her throat. “So what is going on with you two?”

     Quite a bit, as it turned out. Taylor was planning to leave the moon for college to study artificial intelligence, while Michael had managed to repair a car all by himself with a few scraps from the local junkyard. He could only show her pictures of it, the kid had crashed it on his second test run, but it looked decent enough to Niner from what she saw. Taylor nudged Michael in the ribs and grinned.

     “His grades are shit, but give him a wrench and he’s a pro,” they said. Michael lowered his head at the mention of his grades, and Taylor reached up to muse his hair. It was still cut right past his ears. “I mean that as a compliment. Your teachers don’t know shit. If I was teaching, you’d be on honor roll.”

      “Taylor,” Michael muttered, turning a bright red. Still embarrassed about his grades then, after all these years. Despite help from Hannah on his reading skills, Micahel still lagged in most of his classes. Niner knew why; the schools on the moon weren’t equipped to deal with Michael’s reading disorder and ADHD. Which was bullshit, frankly.

      “You see,” Taylor continued, not noticing that their siblings were distracted. “I got it all planned out. I’m gonna make a killer AI, Michael is going to make a killer robot, and then will have this badass machine fighter to show off to the scientist board. Right Michael?”

     The sad look on Michael’s face vanished, replaced by something that Niner could only describe as mischievous. “You bet. Santa; A.I. Fighter of the future.”

      There was a beat of silence. Taylor groaned, dragging their hand down their face. Niner held back the urge to laugh.

      “Santa?”

      “Yes, Santa,” Michael said, nodding once.

      “We’re not naming it Santa,” Taylor said, peering between their fingers.

      “We’re totally naming it Santa. Picture it, Freckles.” Michael took a step back and gestured to the space next to him like there was something there. He then took his two right fingers and pushed up at the bridge of his nose, like he was wearing invisible glasses. “Attention scientists,” he said in a voice that sounded far too snooty to be realistic. “Christmas had come early this year. I present the first A.I fighting robot, Santa!” He gestured to the blank space again, then cleared his throat, taking on a robotic tone. “Someone has been naughty this year.”

     Niner and Taylor stared at him for a few seconds before both of them burst out laughing. Taylor was bent over entirely, while Niner just fell to the ground, clutching her gut. Michael took a bow. It took Taylor a minute to catch their breath.

     “Okay. Okay. You win. Santa it is.”

      Meanwhile, as the three Caboose siblings died of laughter on the moon, Niner’s military file would be placed in the waiting box of one Aiden Price.

     One year later, Niner would be the official pilot for project Freelancer.


	4. Zero Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Project Freelancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to end up skipping the Project itself, just because we've seen canon, doing flashbacks during the last chapter. But here you guys go!

     Niner never liked Aiden Price.

     She couldn’t never give an exact reason for it, not until the project ended. The man was personable enough, pilot but not too much, to the point but not overly direct. He wasn’t harsh to his underlings, commanding just the right amount of discipline to get his point across. He seemed honest and open, caring almost, like a school counselor.

     And like her own school counselors, Niner found that she couldn’t trust him in the slightest.

     The interview had been done on a whim. She had no notification that she was even being considered for another position until they ushered her down to small interview room on the far end of the ship. It was a dark place, badly lit, straight out of classic cop movies with interrogation scenes. The chair she sat in was uncomfortable, harsh wooden splinters digging into her back. Price, who sat across from her in a perfect suit, seemed to be out of place in the cramped chamber. He was too polished. Too official. Too artificial.

      “Welcome, Lieutenant Caboose,” Price said as he placed his briefcase on the tiled floor. From her spot in her chair, Niner could see the impressive locking system that held the information inside. It looked like a fingerprint scanner, only with a few extra additions. What those were, Niner had no idea; Michael would probably be able to figure it out. Price pressed his thumb to the pad and it made a soft clicking noise. The briefcase opened to reveal a series of files, the labels concealed from her sight, and he plucked out one before shutting it again. “Do you know why you’re here?”  
His voice was smooth, calm, like the robotic voices she heard over the intercoms or through their tech. She’d never heard such a tone from an actual person before. The detachment threw her off. She thought through her words, being careful not to choose anything that could be interpreted as insubordination.

     “No. I’m afraid I wasn’t informed.” She stressed the word afraid, adding a little spite to it. She was supposed to be running drills, not talking to a suit and while she couldn’t say that to Price’s face, she could make it as clear as possible other ways. “Do you mind filling me in….”

     “Counselor,” Price said, standing up straight. “I’ve called you here today to discuss a possible job opportunity with you.”

     A job opportunity? If Niner was being prompted to Captain, command wouldn’t be doing it so cloak and dagger. “Sir, if you’re here to ask me to change branches, I’m afraid I have to decline. I have no interest in becoming something other than a pilot.”

      Price shook his head, placing the file on the desk, still closed. “It would be a change in branch, but your main role would still be as a pilot.” Niner managed to hide the confusion from her face quite well. “I’d be happy to explain more after you answer a few questions.”

     She considered question it, but decided better. Whatever this job was, it had her interest. She leaned back in her chair just enough to relax, but not enough to look like she was out of a formal stance. “Alright.”

 Price opened the file in front of him. The papers inside were coated with something, creating a glare that made it impossible for Niner to read them. “Your name is Andromeda Caboose, yes?”

     “That is correct, Sir.”

      Price nodded, his finger trailing down the page. “According to my files, you were a resident of Moon Colony Five before joining us here.” He looked back up at her, meeting her eyes. Niner found herself wistful for her helmet that was in her room. It made her feel less exposed. “Can you tell me what that was like?”

     It was a strange question for a job interview, but given her strange interviewer she decided to play along. For now.

     “It was boring,” she said, trying not to picture to expanse of empty grey that haunted her in two very different ways. “Really messy. The moon dust got all over everything so it was pretty much impossible to keep things clean. Kind of lonely, I guess.”

“Lonely?” Price’s finger halted over a section of information. “With 16 sisters and a brother?”

     Niner pressed her lips together, thinking of Taylor. They used either sister or brother, but Niner felt ill at ease with this man casually choosing one.  “I prefer 17 siblings, Sir.”  

     Price’s eyes softened, and he reached for a pen to mark something in the file. It was only at that moment Niner realized that he had been taking notes on a pad next to him. “I’m sorry for my mistake. Let me rephrase. What was it like growing up with 17 siblings?”

     Terrible. Wonderful. Loud. Quiet. Niner pictured chasing Rose and Lily around the yard for stealing her hair ties, combing out Taylor’s hair for their first day of school, tickling Michael on the lawn as he shouted “Andromeda” like their mother did. Those were her memories, not something to slap on a job application. “May I ask why this is information is necessary, Sir?”

     Price glanced up at her. Something like a genuine smile crossed his face, and he tapped his forehead. The gesture and expression would stick in Niner’s head for years later. Those few seconds may have been the most authentic seconds she had ever seen of Aiden Price in her entire life.

     “ Lieutenant Caboose,” he said, voice no longer the monotone she’d already begun to associate with the man. “There is no such thing as unnecessary information.”

     The rest of the interview went like that, Price asking questions about her family, her military record, her dead comrades. Niner answered his questions as well as she could, skipping information she thought excessive, sticking to the facts or information that was her own. Price was a sympathetic interviewer, offering to take breaks when needed, offering water when her voice would grow dry. Niner never took him up on any of his offers.

     “Well,” he said, after their interview had concluded. “This has been enlightening.” He reached down for his briefcase again and pulled out another file folder after undoing the lock. This folder he gave to Niner. She opened it up and looked at the front page. There on a white sheet of paper were what looked like classified files, neatly organized and printed.

     “Lieutenant Caboose,” Price said, folding his hands together. “You have been selected to be an official pilot in an important military operation. Starting in two months, your activities, service record and name will be classified. From this moment out you must not speak of this mission to anyone, including your commanding officers. During the project, contact to the outside world will be strictly forbidden. Your family will be informed of your status periodically, but say updates will be sent by command alone. Do you accept these terms?”

     Niner looked down at the file in front of her. No outside communication. No letters home. No information at all. Her mother would survive, she was a strong woman, and her sisters would be alright with support from each other. Taylor would understand her sacrifice and accept it. But Michael. Michael who still wrote her monthly.

     “Lieutenant Caboose,” she looked up at Price again. He’d outstretched on of his hands to the middle of the table, a soothing gesture. His eyes were harsh and cold, but they carried the weight of truth to them, and that she could trust. “This project could help us win the war. You could help us win the war.”

     Niner would like to say she thought of her family then. Protecting them, saving them from the forces that lurked among the galaxy. But that would be a lie. Because all Niner could think about with those two sentences is watching her shadow of the Moon fade beneath her own.

     “I accept,” she said, voice firm. Price extended his hand for a handshake.

      “I hoped you would.” She met his hand halfway. “Welcome to Project Freelancer, Lieutenant Caboose..”

      That moment, that one sentence spoken in an empty interrogation room, would mark the death of Andromeda Caboose and the birth of Four Seven Niner.

***

 

     She made on trip back home before she joined the project. It was a short trip, a weekend only, designed only to get everyone up to date and nothing more. Her mother took it how she expected; only giving minor protests before letting it go. Her sisters, the ones who were still home, all sucked it up, far used to Niner being gone for long periods of time. Taylor and her other siblings who had left the planet, all got letters in the mail to explain, and while their responses all differed, the most common response was “I understand.”

     She didn’t bother to tell her father. He’d figure it out. She didn’t particularly care about who told him.

     Michael was the first she spoke to. IT only seemed fair; out of all her family members, he was the one who talked to her the most. He was 15 now, taller than ever, and while his freckles had faded, there were still enough to cover both of his cheeks. His voice had started to grow lower, but it was nothing like the booming voice of their father. Niner was sure he’d start bawling when she told him.

    He caught her surprise. Niner hadn’t been the only Caboose who had changed over the last couple of years.

      She told them on their front porch, a place that was quickly becoming the destination of choice for Caboose hearts to hearts. The dust wasn’t strong that day, the steps almost clean for once besides the cracks. Her brother was bent over when she told him, looking forward with his hands on his knees. It was almost funny how odd her looked curled up. When she delivered the news he just took a deep breath, swiped his out of control bangs from his eyes, and looked up at her.

      “Do you have to?”

     That froze her up. Did she have to? She honestly didn’t know. After looking over her briefing info for the project, she was partly convinced that rejecting Price’s offer would have gotten her drafted anyway. But if she actually had a say...well.

     “I do,” she lied. It was effortless now. In her introductory training for the program, one of the first lessons was how to hide her own tells. She now knew how her eyes turned down when she lied, or how she tended to curl her fingers. She didn’t even have to work to keep those gestures from her little brother. “It’s important.”

     “So when will I next hear from you?”

     This time she couldn’t lie. “I don’t know.”

     Michael took a deep breath, a growl of sorts echoing in his chest. Frustration. “And you have to go? You don’t got another choice?”

     It was harder to lie this time. But not much harder. She just had to focus on the open sky and the feeling of weightlessness. Not the family she was leaving back home. “No. I don’t.”

     Michael’s hands curled into fists and he lifted up his left leg to slam it back down on one of the steps. It cracked from the force, a fracture running down the side. Splinters rained down under the stoop. Niner scowled and reached for her brother’s shoulder. “Michael-”

     “Don’t!” Michael squirmed out of her grasp. “Don’t.” His face scrunched up, the corners of his eyes tightening. It was a common expression when he was having trouble finding words. At last, he spoke. “It’s not okay. It’s not. You’re going away and everyone else is going away, and I’m gonna be here and not know if you’re alright.” He lifted up his feet so they were on the same step as him and reached forward to hug his legs to his chest. He looked so much like a kid. “It’s not okay.”

     She looked down at the broken step. Her mother would throw a fit about that one, when she found out. Niner was going to have to think of a good excuse. She got up and knelt on the step in front of Michael, the one that now wobbled under her weight. She tapped his knee, like she used to when he was a scared toddler. He looked up.

     “Mikey,” she said, speaking slow. “I’m going to be alright.”

“You can’t promise that. What if you crash? What if we don’t know and-” His voice was muffled before it cut off. He was right. She couldn’t, not really. But she’d try to make him believe she could, if only so she could get that lost expression off his face.

     “Yes, I can. You know who I am, Michael?”

     Michael gave her a look that was full of teenage exasperation. “Andromeda. My big sister. A huge idiot.”

      She reached forward to flick him on the side of the face. He winced. “Rude and incorrect.” She leaned back, taking on the posture that she held when on duty. “Try again. Who am I? When I’m not here?”

     He still looked rather disgruntled, but some part of Michael decided to play along. “A soldier and a pilot.”

     “Closer.”

     “Still terrible at cards?”

     “Shut up and think.”

     Michael pressed his lips together, looking at her for what felt like an age. He bit off some of the skin on his chapped lips. “You’re...a Caboose?”

     It wasn’t exactly what she’d been going for (she’d been looking for a Lieutenant) but she went with it anyway. “Exactly. I’m a Caboose. And do you know what that means?”  
Michael, fully engrossed now, shook his head. Niner lifted her hand for a salute, far more formal than the ones she used to give as a child. She made sure not to waver in the slightest.

     “I don’t crash.”

     It didn’t make any sense in the slightest. There wasn’t anything in their family history that would enforce this claim. Michael was far too old to take his sister’s words at face value. But at that moment, both of them took those three words as a law of physics.

     “Alright,” Michael said. He got up, wiped the beginning of tears from his eyes. “Okay.” The second one was for himself. He turned back towards the door. Then, in a voice so soft she almost missed it. “I’m still gonna write letters though. Even if you’ll never get them.”

     She wouldn’t find out that  he followed through on that promise until years later.

 

***

 

     In Freelancer she was the worst soldier.

     It was clear from her introduction. Unlike her fellow soldiers, she couldn’t hit moving targets from yards away with a knife, she couldn’t beat a man trained in three forms of martial arts. It wasn’t like she couldn’t fight; she’d gotten some of the best scores in the academy in hand to hand. It was just that she couldn’t fight like them.

    Her first game of “Fight the Rookie” proved that.

     “Fight the Rookie” was a simple hazing ritual. Whenever a new recruit joined the project, they were sent to the training room to try their hand against the last rookie. She’d been given a chance to avoid it (she was a pilot, technically), but she’d wanted to get a taste of what it was like to be a freelancer.

     The taste was blood. Her split lip was enough to tell her that.

     “You didn’t do too bad,” A Freelancer named York said, helping her up from the mats. They were all in their training gear, the entire squad assembled to watch the showdown. The victor, Florida, was smirking at her from across the room. She hadn’t gotten a scratch on him.

     “I lasted five minutes,” Niner said, spitting out some blood onto the floor. She expected one of the Freelancers to get on her case for being a slob but none of them spoke up. It was a small squad, perhaps seven total.

     “You’re a pilot, it’s impressive you lasted two. Plus Florida plays dirty.”

     “You’re one to talk, buddy,” a friendly voice said from behind her. Even though he wiped the floor with her, Florida seemed pretty nice. It had caught her by surprise when he turned out to be so brutal in a fight. “You’d probably fly circles around us anyday.”

     “Speak for yourself,” a redhead, Carolina said, walking past York to punch him in the shoulder. She gave Niner a grin that was seemed like an invitation. Niner wasn’t going to take her up on it; she valued her piloting skills, but she also valued her life.

     It didn’t matter. She managed to prove herself a week later on a mission by taking out five enemy jets with just one working gun and a busted engine. After that, no one ever suggested a fly off ever again.

     Niner wasn’t the last rookie. North and South followed (who both kicked her ass as well), Wyoming after them, and Washington last. They ended up taking the place of fallen members before them. After two years on the project, the team ended up stabilizing enough that new agents stopped pouring in.

     It took a month later for the leaderboard to show up. It took two for Texas to arrive. It took half a year for the project to crash entirely.


	5. Free Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all ends.

     Niner didn’t remember most of the fight.

     She got knocked out right when it started, courtesy of Agent Texas. The woman managed to clock her as soon as she forced her way into the ship, sending Niner straight to the floor with a bloody nose and a likely concussion. Niner couldn’t remember much of the fight itself, she had no idea if she managed to get a hit in or if she saw Texas at all. All she could remember was lying on the floor, slipping into unconsciousness with a throbbing skull only to see the Pelican and thinking “ _that bitch scratched my ship_.”

     So no, Niner didn’t remember the fight. She didn’t remember the sound of explosions, or the smell of smoke, or the rattling of the floor as the ship began to lose its path. She didn’t remember the thing beginning to plummet or the gravity shutting down, or the screech of metal against the engines. That was lost to the haze of unconsciousness.

     What Niner remembered was the free fall.

     She woke up for that part, if only briefly. She’d roused herself to consciousness just in time to feel the ship spiraling towards the ground below them, to feel the second where zero gravity was a construct of falling instead of the vacuum of space. She opened her eyes to find herself floating in the middle of the hanger, droplets of blood swirling above her from her broken nose. All the spacecrafts were floating of the ground, tilting into one another. The alarm seemed to be far away, like she was still asleep.

     They were going to crash. Going to die. And she couldn’t do a single thing about it. Just like all of those Niner had watched fall before her. Just like she had always feared for herself.

     In that split second, there was no fear. All she had was one thought.

    _So this is what it’s like to fall._

     The ship crashed into the snowbank below. The engine exploded. Niner was forced back to the ground among debris and wreckage.

      It was only then that the screaming started.

***

     They sent her to find Carolina’s body.

     There was no one else who could do it. Neither Price nor the Director were in the proper shape to scale down that cliff. The Freelancers who hadn’t rebelled were far too damaged from the fight to manage the climb. Washington hadn’t stopped screaming since his surgery unless sedated.

     So it was up to her. Take your pack, soldier. Bring back a body. Ignore the feeling of vomit in your throat. The war depends on you.

     That slogan was starting to grow thin.

     Reaching the bottom of the canyon was an exercise in pain. Niner was strong but bruising from the crash hadn’t left her suited for walking, let alone strenuous activity. She lost her grip at least five times on the way down. The absence of her ship, the feeling of flight, made every movement more raw.

     When she made it to the bottom, she’d already braced herself for a corpse. She expected to see a halo of red hair and blood surrounding the face of the first female Freelancer she ever met. Instead she was met by the imprint of a body, some shattered helmet glass and a footprint trail that cut off inches from the impact sight.

     Carolina had survived. _Carolina had ran._

     “Do you have any idea of why Agent Carolina might have left?” That was the question Price asked her later, holed up in a new base with new rooms that were back on solid ground. Despite the crash, Price seemed the same as always, calm, collected and detached. Niner was sure he’d remain that way even if the base went up in flames. The only scars he sported from the event were a slight panic in his eyes and a new scar on his forearm.

     Niner had not been so lucky. Her body was a map of injuries now, scars and cuts littering her entire frame. She didn’t look like a pilot anymore. She looked like a solider. A Freelancer.

     “She might have been disoriented from her fight with the Meta,” she said keeping her voice just as even as Price’s was. It’d become easier to do, after her few seconds in zero gravity. “Maybe she thought she needed to get away. Find cover.”

     “While that may explain Carolina’s behavior after the original impact, it does little to explain why she is still hiding from us.” An expression of sympathy appeared on his face, one Niner now recognized as a well sculpted mask. “You interacted with Carolina. Do you have any idea what may have motivated her to run from those who wished to help her?”

     Niner clenched her fists under the table so Price couldn’t see. Interacted. What a choice word. Playing poker after missions was interacting. Talking with South about their brothers was interacting. Listening to York complain after a mission was interacting.

     She wondered if Price would label Tex smacking her in the face as “interacting” too.

     “I have no idea.” It wasn’t a lie. None of the Freelancers had told her anything about the raid, anything about what prompted it. As far as record was concerned, she was in the dark.

     But Niner had her suspicions. She’d heard the AI’s talk, she’d watched the sudden shift after Connie’s death. She knew what it meant to run from family.

     Niner didn’t know Carolina’s motives, but she hoped for her sake they’d never catch her.

     The next week, Niner was assigned to operation recovery.

***

     The first time Niner saw Washington after, she didn’t recognize him. His hair was cut short. His movements were different. The shadows under his eyes seemed to be permanently etched into his skin.

     He was no longer the boyish rookie she once knew. This was a man. A man who’d watched his world burned.

     She tried to ask him about what happened. She was never outright about it, always preferring to be subtle rather than blunt. That was how Freelancer worked; every phrase, every gesture, had to be cloaked in secrecy. But he never gave her an answer. He’d just press his lips together and tell her to focus on the mission. It was like he was haunted by the memory.

     Years later, sitting trial for her involvement in Project Freelancer, Niner would finally discover how literal that statement was.

***

     Treason; that was what she was jailed for.

     Four Seven Niner; that was who she was jailed as.

     That was how Niner discovered that Andromeda Caboose had been legally dead since she joined the project.

     She couldn’t believe it at first even after sitting through a list of the project’s crimes. It seemed almost cartoonish in nature for the project to even bother. She was a pilot for God’s sake, not an agent. Faking her death would have been overkill.

     She didn’t believe until she got the records.

     Michael, to her surprise, had kept to his word about the letters. They delivered them to her jail cell and everything, a stack of them, one for every month she’d been working in Freelancer up until the crash. At first she thought they were doctored, another trick to mess with her, but the handwriting proved otherwise. Only Michael J. Caboose wrote in such a messy scrawl.

     The last letter he’d sent was the most beat up, the edges creased with dirt, the front of the envelope crinkled by drops of water. The date put Niner on edge at once; out of all of the letters this was the only one written after her “death”. With trembling hands, she opened the envelope.

     Inside was one letter, perhaps the most serious her brother had ever written.

_“Freckles,”_

_“They delivered the news today, the news about you. Two guys in full uniform just showed up on our doorstep and when I saw them from my window, I knew what it was about. I had to probe Mom hours later for the details. Apparently, you crashed outside the Delta orbit and there’s no body._

_I’m not sure what to do with that. The fact that you’re dead._

_Everyone is coming home for the funeral. Even Hannah is going to try to make it and she’s outside the galaxy. Dad made a big deal about it, says we have to honor the family hero, and Rose decked him so hard that she left a bruise. I wish I had done it instead. I have bigger knuckles._

_Lois is joining up, ground forces. I think the guys who delivered the news talked to her when none of us were watching. They tried to talk to me to, but it was useless. I joined up a few days ago._

_I know you’d be disappointed. College, I know, college. It was an accident honestly; I thought I was in the university office until I signed the papers. Which is what I get for going sleep deprived and led by Dad, I guess. I was going to turn down the verification and go visit the university office, it’s on my desk now, but I don’t think I’m going to now._

_You’re not dead, Freckles. I know it. You don’t crash. You never crash._

_I know it’s dumb. I’ve always been dumb. But I’m going to be smart about this one. I’m going to find you. Bring both of us home. And if it means I have to put on a suit of armor, I’m going to do that. Even if it means giving up robotics for a little while._

_I’ll see you._

_-Private Michael J. Caboose_

 

     The sight of “private” in front of her baby brother’s first name made her run for the toilet to vomit. Her brother joined the military. Her brother was fighting a war. He brother was doing this for her. And that wasn’t even touching her little sister in the front lines.

     They wouldn’t let her inform them of her survival. She knew too much, she was too valuable. But they would update her on their status. For a cost.

    In exchange for a five page letter on what she knew about Freelancer AI, her jailer Hargrove offered her two updates. One was good. Lois; was alive, a Captain, placed in a sector with low combat. She would be fine.

     The other was devastating. Because her baby brother, her baby brother who’d apparently survived the thumb of Freelancer, the wrath of Maine, and the downfall of Director, had died in a ship crash months earlier.

     He was gone. Dead. And it was all Niner’s fault.

     Back when she was in flight school, they’d given her advice when it came to crashes. It was rather simple advice, given out to be used in emergencies, but Niner remembered it well. When one’s ship was falling to the Earth, sometimes the best strategy was to bail. Leave the ship. Leave the cargo. Leave anything that could weigh you down. Strip everything off your person except what you needed to survive and jump.

     Last time Niner crashed, she didn’t have a chance for any of that. But now, staring at the pile of letters from her dead baby brother, Niner found she had no other choice. Michael giving her a salute. Captain Freckles. Taylor’s promise of an AI named Santa. The weight of memory.

     She threw them off the edge of her awareness. Buried them deep with the compassion she had to discard during project Freelancer. Left them to rot.

    According to public record, Andromeda Caboose died years ago. In reality, Andromeda Caboose died in that small jail cell under the weight of her own memory.

     Months later, when she would finally make her escape by tackling a guard and stealing a ship, she would do so as Prisoner Four Seven Niner.

 

***

     The last time Niner crashed, it was onto Chorus.

     The ship made a decent landing, if not exploding could be counted as decent. Niner managed to claw her way out of the smoke and debris well enough, the gun she’d stolen off the guard held firm in her hand. She was free. On the run. And she would be damned if Freelancer caught her again.

     As a result, she wasn’t too happy when her first sight upon leaving the cockpit was one Agent Washington and Agent Carolina.

     He looked better. Loads better. The dark circles under his eyes were gone, his movements seemed more relaxed, and the tremor that had wracked his frame back when he worked for Recover were gone. In fact, he looked rather close to the Washington she knew. The innocent kid.

     She pointed her gun at him anyway. No one in Freelancer was innocent. Washington was supposed to be dead. Trusting him would be a fool’s errand.

     “Four Seven Niner,” Wash said and Niner could tell her was trying to pacify her by lifting his hands up high. “It’s nice to see you.”

     She wasn’t going to take it. “You’re suppose to be dead.”

     “Wouldn’t be the first time I defied government record,” He gestured to her prisoner’s uniform. It was torn up a good deal, and there were small patches of red from where she cut herself in the crash. “Gotta say, orange is a good color on you.”

     So he was still a smart ass. Fantastic. “Shut up.”

     “Put it down,” Carolina said, and Niner refocused her attention on her. She was in full uniform, but Niner would recognize that voice anywhere. She looked the same as she did when Niner last saw her and she sounded the same too. But Niner couldn’t help but notice the AI on her shoulder. An AI. Carolina had an AI. Even after knowing what was done to secure one. Even after knowing how they ruined them all. She tightened her grip on the gun. She wouldn’t be able to beat Carolina in a fight, she knew that, but she would be damned if she didn’t try.

     “I mean it,” Carolina said again. Washington seemed to relax at the sound of her voice. So they were on the same team. That was good to know. If they were together, they probably weren’t rogue agents.

     “What? So you can call command on me?” Niner shook her head and her hair fell out from her hair tie into her face. “Don’t think so.”

     Washington raised his hands higher. “Hey. Hey. Listen. We’re not calling anyone. We can’t even reach command on this planet. All the com towers don’t work. Trust me we’ve tried. There’s not going to be any reporting anytime soon.” He lowered one hand and held it out. “If you lower the gun, we can just work this all out.”

     Niner frowned. No communication towers? It was too good to be true. They had to be playing her. She jerked her head towards Carolina. “What? So the ghost of Christmas past can shoot me? I don’t think so.”

     “Carolina’s not going to shoot you.” Niner didn’t have a chance to express her disbelief before Carolina spoke again.

     “I make no promises.” And there was the Carolina Niner knew. Focused on the mission. The mission of capturing her. Niner gripped the gun even tighter. She was going to die here. For real this time. She was going to die here on this crapshoot of a planet and her family would think she’d-

    “Freckles!”

     Niner froze. Dropped the gun. She knew that voice. She helped raise that voice. That voice was dead. There was no way. She turned to the new arrival. In the corner of the clearing was another soldier, a tall one in all blue armor. A really tall soldier, almost Maine tall. His gun was hanging at his side, bad form, and while she couldn’t see his face, she was positive he was staring at her. Niner searched for words, opening and closing her mouth like a suffocating fish, before settling on one. A name she hadn’t spoken aloud in years.

     “Michael?”

     That was all it took to send the blue soldier running. At first she thought he was going to tackle her, but instead he wrapped his arms around and lifted her up in a bone crushing hug. Before she could even process that, he began to spin her around, a pattern Niner recognized from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. She kept her arms at her sides, falling back into routine, and stared at the soldier's helmet. He was speaking now, in a rapid pace that was entirely Michael.

     “I can’t believe it’s you Freckles. Mom said you’d stop sending letters and I was worried but then I remembered that you’re Freckles and you’d be fine and then I joined the army and drove a tank and-”

     “Wash…” Niner could hear Carolina and Washington talk in the distance but she wasn’t really paying attention. She felt like she’d crashed all over again. Maybe she’d been more injured than she thought. Maybe she had a concussion.  She wiggled her arms out of the soldier's grip and reached for his helmet.

     Michael, older, scarred and down a bit of an ear, grinned back at her.

     He was alive. Her baby brother was alive. All the memories she’d buried in that jail cell began to rush back, breathing life back into the woman that was once Andromeda J. Caboose.

     “Caboose,” Wash said, snapping Niner out of her trance. His eyes were comically wide. “How do you know Four Seven.... I mean, Freckles?”

     For a Freelancer, Washington was slow on the uptake. The shock on Niner’s face morphed into judgement. Couldn’t he see the family resemblance?  Michael was the one to answer.

     “Freckles? Freckles is my sister. Oh yes.” He dropped Niner in one motion. Niner almost lost her balance when her feet met the ground again. When she managed to get her barings, it was to look at Michael. He was standing in formal military posture,the kind he’d always attempted to intimidate as a child. He gestured to the Freelancers.  “Freckles, these are my friends Agent Washingtub, and Carolina.” He then gestured to Niner.  “Agent Washingtub, Carolina, this is my big sister, Freckles.”

      “We’ve met,” Carolina and Niner said at the same time, their voices coated with amusement and distrust respectively. Niner thought back to the last letter Michael had wrote her and shoved her baby brother as hard as she could. He didn’t even sway. His growth spurt had really made it hard to intimidate him. She narrowed her eyes and poked him right in the chest.  

     “What the fuck are you doing in the Army, Michael! What about college?” College was right. That was were he was supposed to be. Safe. At home. Working on robotics. Thinking of stupid names for said robotics.

     The grin still hadn’t left her brother’s face. It seemed a little off to Niner, but she couldn’t place it. “I tried. I got the wrong building.”

     The words from his letter came rushing back. Right. She was calling bullshit on that one. She flung her hands into the air. “The wrong building!? Bull. Did Dad put you up to this? I swear to God-”

     “Don’t swear to God. He’ll hold you to it.”

     Niner’s nerves turned her stomach. Why was he taking things literally? She ignored it. Michael was alive. Michael had almost gotten himself killed over her. She could fret after being furious.

     “You know what I mean, Michael! You know what I felt when I saw “Private Caboose” on your letter? I almost had a-”

     “It’s Captain Caboose now.” Michael said, still chipper. He seemed unaware she was arguing with him. Niner just stared at him. Captain Caboose. Her brother was a Captain. Like he’d always wanted her to be.

     The anger in her chest cooled to a small flame. She could be angry later. When she spoke next, it was with less bite.

     “Captain. You’re a Captain. You’re shitting me.”

     Michael smiled, that big smile he used to give her back when he was five years old following her after school. He was okay. He was alive. He was different, Niner could pick that up now, but as long as he still could smile like that, she’d manage.

     For the first time since the Freelancer crash, Niner felt like she was on solid ground.

     This time, she relished it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a ride guys. I may write a sequel from Caboose's POV or some one shots, but a true sequel won't be written until season 13 ends so I know where to take this. Thanks for following. Without your support, I would have never finished it!


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